


It Sounds Like You Want Your Ass Kicked

by paperdreams (rocketsandraccoons)



Category: South Park
Genre: AoU Compliant, Avengers AU, Can be read as implied romantic or just plantonic, Captain America TFA Compliant, Captain America WS Compliant, Cartman is mentioned but not featured, Clyde is a good friend, Clyde is underappreciated, Definitely Bi Kyle, Find out my mock theory here, I can tell you honestly that idk, I just wanted it mentioned, Kenny always deserves better, Kenny and Kyle really need hugs, Kenny knows everything, Mental Health Issues, Mildly touched upon Identity Issues, Mildly touched upon suicide idealation, Superheroes are all ridiculously sad, The Avengers Compliant, Trans mtf Butters, Where Was Clint Barton During Captain America 2?, You may be wondering what this is, You may suffer either way, although this isn't really gone into detail, lots of slice of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketsandraccoons/pseuds/paperdreams
Summary: Kyle Broflovski had always been quick to anger.Kyle Broflovski did not go on fucking sadness errands:Kenny's words rang through his head like a church bell. “You're a terrible liar you know.”Or; the Avengers AU nobody asked for - Snippets of Kyle Broflovski's life





	It Sounds Like You Want Your Ass Kicked

**Author's Note:**

> I've had writers block for MoNtHs, I had a pretty weird dream the other night and this is the result. If you enjoy it, then I'm glad. I actually thoroughly enjoyed writing it, even if I'm not 100% sure as to what this is.  
> It follows the events of the movies as closely as possible, with the South Park gang filling in the roles.

Kyle Broflovski had always been quick to anger. Whether it was someone picking on someone smaller than them, or it was just the simple injustices of the world. For someone so frail he had one hell of a temper. Having diabetes had never stopped him from getting into fights, it never stopped him from giving all he had.

“Sometimes I think you like getting your ass kicked.”

Looking over at his friend, he gave a one shouldered shrug. “Not really.”

Stan had been his friend for as long as he could remember. His oldest friend.

His _only_ friend.

“You sure about that?” A teasing grin began to tug at the boys lips.

They were ten. Kyle had just got out of a fight with another asshole who thought it was okay to spit out offensive phrases to anyone vaguely different from them. They would have dragged themselves back to Kyle's house for his ma to patch him up, but she was over-protective on a good day and it was the fifth time that fortnight that Kyle had gotten a bloody nose.

“It sounds like you want your ass kicked.”

Stan threw snow at him for that, and the conversation was forgotten as they fought with the frozen snow that coated their town.

* * *

“What was it this time?”

He didn't even have to look up from the book held tightly between his fingers. Stan dropped down onto the floor next to the couch he was curled up on.

“Some asshole was giving Heidi a hard time for having an opinion on ' _men's business_ '. Didn't like the fact I was agreeing with her.”

Heidi was a nice girl in their class. She was shy at times, but not in the way men liked women to be. And she was _smart_. Some of the boys in their class didn't like that, and it made her a target for harassment. They weren't _friends_ , but sometimes she would join Stan and him at lunch and it was nice to interact with another person who didn't seem to care that he was _ill_.

“She's nice.”

Shrugging, he looked away from his book to meet Stan's bright gaze. “I suppose. It's nice talking to someone who cares about the world.” His tone was teasing and he felt a smile tug at his lips.

Stan shook his head. “That's not what I meant.”

He knew _that_.

Looking back at his book, he shrugged. “Ask her out then.”

He didn't have to look up to know that Stan was looking thoroughly unimpressed.

* * *

South Park was a hell hole and he wanted to leave. It had been his dream since he was old enough to realise the world was bigger than their shitty mountain town. He wanted to see the sun beat down on streets that didn't have snow pushed into half assed hills on every corner.

He was eighteen and knew that he was never going to leave.

Too sickly to do much of anything. It didn't matter that he took the insulin as per instruction of his doctor, he would still feel exhausted and dizzy long before he was supposed to take his next dose. His vision would become blurry, and he almost constantly felt weak.

It didn't stop him from getting into fights – he was just more determined to fight with words than fists.

“Ma and Dad are fighting again.” Stan huffed as he dropped into the armchair. “He hasn't been sober in a fortnight.” Shaking his head, he looked as exhausted as Kyle felt. “I just wanted a peaceful dinner after work, you know?”

He didn't know, but he could guess. Stan worked hard at the junkyard, and Kyle knew that it was exhausting work. Everyone said so anyway.

“You can stay here if you want.” His tongue felt a little thick but his ma wouldn't mind Stan staying, it happened often enough.

A soft smile stretched across Stan's face. “That would be great.”

* * *

If he told himself he wasn't even slightly bitter, he would be lying.

Stan was stood dressed ready to leave. _107_ _Th_ _, shipping to England in the morning_. He claimed he had enlisted, but Kyle had heard Sharon tell his ma that she had been heartbroken when the draft came through.

He wanted to be out there, fighting for his country. Fighting against the men who thought people like him belonged in _camps_. It made his stomach twist and bile rise up his throat. Made his hands curl into fists and anger burn in his chest.

It wasn't that he wanted to kill anyone, he just could not stand bullies.

And he had always been quick to anger.

“I'll be back before you know it.” Stan said with an awful attempt at a genuine smile.

Kyle just shook his head. “You better not die, jackass.”

That brought a more real looking twitch to Stan's lips. “Promised my ma I would fix up the kitchen, gotta be back before my dad attempts it.”

When they hugged goodbye, Kyle felt as if his heart was being ripped out his chest.

* * *

Dr. Doctor was not the most conventional Doctor Kyle had ever met, and while he did not trust him as far as he could throw him, he went along with every suggestion. If it meant he got to leave South Park and perhaps be something _more_ , then he would give it a try. If he died, well it wasn't like he was expecting to live long anyway.

“Have you ever been to New York before?” Red was smiling at him, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“No. I've never been further than Denver.”

Tilting her head to the side, her smile was soft and genuine. “I think you will like it.”

She reminded him of Heidi in a way, strong and determined. Neither were willing to simply exist as a part of 'mens world' they fought to make themselves players. It wasn't just 'mens world', it was theirs too, and they were going to let everyone know that.

“I hope so.”

* * *

The procedure was painful to say the least. It felt as if every part of his body had been drenched in alcohol and lit aflame.

No part of his conscious had been eased at the presence of Steven Black. He had seen the man on television a few times, and nothing about knowing he was helping with the procedure made him feel 'at ease'.

Nothing had went wrong though – not as far as anyone could tell.

When the black spots faded from his vision, and his mind stopped screaming, it was the first time in his life that he felt _strong_.

Breathing in air like his life depended on it, he lifted his head to meet Red's impressed gaze. Her red painted lips were pulled into something smug.

“And I thought you were impressive _before_.”

His heart stuttered and he wasn't sure how to respond in the slightest.

* * *

It was Red that had told him about the 107th.

She flitted in and out of his life with a mix of brilliant advice and great conversation. A sly smile and genuine admiration in her eyes. Sometimes his heart would pound faster when she spoke to him, and he occasionally thought about the _what if's_.

The life he had always wanted for himself and reality had always been two different things.

But he liked Red.

There was certainly a future that could be had there.

“Your friend, Stanley, he was in the one oh seventh, was he not?”

Nodding, he felt his brow furrow. “Why?”

Pressing her lips together, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “They have gone MIA while fighting some of Garrison's forces. Those who returned claimed that everyone else is dead.”

 _No_.

“Claimed-” His heart was hammering so hard in his chest that he thought it might explode. “You do-”

The smile that twitched at her lips reminded him of the many reasons he liked her.

* * *

Steven's help was a surprise, but he wasn't going to question anyone who was going to help him on a borderline suicide mission. For all he knew all he was going to find was dead bodies.

But he didn't.

The 107th were alive, and Stan wasn't there. His tongue had been thick when he asked. Asked where Sargent Marsh was, because why- _Why_ would the universe be cruel enough to take Stan from him? Why would the universe only allow Stan to die?

Once he was certain everyone else was alright, he went to search the rest of the base. Because Mephesto liked to experiment.

Mephesto liked to experiment and Stan was alive.

Stan was alive and looked like hell, but he was _alive_.

Pulling the straps from the table, his heart was pounding like crazy in his chest. Breath catching in his throat. “I thought you were dead.”

His friends eyes were filled with confusion and as wide as saucers. “What the fuck.” He breathed out. “I thought you were smaller.”

A grin tugged at Kyle's lips, but he suppressed it.

* * *

The Howling Commandos became his friends. Bradley Biggle, Harrison Yates, Gregory, Christophe, and Pip Pirrup. A good group of people who wanted to help stop Garrison and HYDRA. Red and Steven were there with them every step of the way, and it was the most at home he had ever felt in his life.

Stan on his six, and his friends helping him stop the evil that wanted to take freedom from the people.

For a while, he forgot that _all good things must come to an end_. It was a saying he had never put any stalk in because he still had Stan. He wrote his parents, and despite the war life felt almost okay. Once HYDRA were stopped, he could go back to America.

Maybe he wouldn't return to South Park. Maybe he could really live.

Stan had his six until he didn't.

“Take my hand.” He had screamed out desperately.

It hadn't been enough. Stan was still a little too far.

He fell a lot further.

Kyle's heart plummeted with him, he had never felt pain like it.

* * *

He had always been quick to anger, but the week that followed Stan's death he was nothing but. Every off sentence. Every pitying look. Every almost wrong word. He snapped. He bubbled. He _boiled_ with rage.

It didn't matter that he still had Red and Steven. It didn't matter that the Howling Commandos were with him every step of the way. His blood burned hot with the need to _avenge_.

Stan deserved better. Stan had deserved more.

The promise of a dance from Red. The promise of a possible future with Red was the only thing that kept him remotely in line.

If Stan couldn't have his future, Kyle would live the best fucking life he could.

The plane hit the water, and despite having saved the world, he felt like he had failed Stan all over again.

* * *

Waking up was the most terrifying experience of his life.

He could still feel the frozen water splashing at his skin. Could still feel the fear and the encompassing darkness. It burned at his lungs and scratched at his skin.

The instinct to run had taken over, and his legs pushed. Pushed and pushed past the people and the colours – the bright, bright colours. Everything was wrong. So, impossibly wrong.

With each breath, he felt wrong. Each step, he felt wrong. The world was loud and bright and nothing like the world he left behind. Horrific. Terrifying.

The man in front of him was telling him that it was okay. He would be okay. So many people were staring at him, and obnoxious car horns were filling the air. Loud, terrifying. His lungs weren't taking in enough air. His heart was beating so fast it burned in his chest.

“Calm down, Children. You're okay.”

No. No he wasn't.

“I had a date.” Was all he had it in himself to say.

* * *

Seventy years. He slept as an oversized icicle for _seventy years_.

Steven Brown had married, had a child and _died_. Bradley. Pip. Harrison. Gregory. Christophe. _Dead_. His ma and dad, _dead_. Sharon and Randy. _Dead_. Heidi. _Dead_.

To his complete and utter surprise, Shelly was _alive_. Old. Married. Three children, two grand children. _Alive_.

Red was still alive too. Had married eventually, had a couple of children. Her husband had died and she had something called Alzheimer. It wasn't a disease he knew nearly enough about, but he understood that it meant her mind was deteriorating. It hurt to think that someone so bright was being slowly stripped of herself.

It felt like a sick joke.

Living in a fancy new world, with technology his mind could scarcely begin to understand. A world a thousand times more tolerant than the world her had left behind.

And he was in it _alone_.

* * *

Agent Jerome McElroy seemed nice enough, but spies were _spies_ and he wasn't sure _how_ he was supposed to feel about that. All he knew was that SHIELD were trying to help him ease into the world, and he already felt more than indebted.

It was promised work, but he was a soldier not a spy.

He still didn't understand how the new world worked.

“Anything you can tell me about the Teseract?”

Staring at the file, he felt sick.

He had just done that. Had literally just flown into the ocean to stop the power of the Teseract. Had just given up his _entire future_ over the fucking cube, and there it was. Fished out of the ocean, and stolen by another psychopath hell-bent on world domination.

Just because it had been seventy years for everyone else, didn't mean it had been seventy years for him.

“You should have left it in the ocean.”

The universe seemed to enjoy mocking him.

* * *

Being on a plane had been nothing new to him. Being looked at as if he was a _hero_ was.

Agent Valmer seemed seemed like a nice enough man, but the look of complete awe that crossed his face every time he glanced Kyle's way made him nervous. As if he was more than just Kyle.

Seventy years had passed, and what he had read about himself had implied that he was more than Kyle. He was a symbol. A symbol of hope. A hero who had sacrificed himself for the good of his nation – _what good had that done_?

They landed and he felt nervous. Walking off the plane with his heart beating triple time.

“Jimmy, Captain.”

The blond had a grin stretched across his face, blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

“There's been one hell of a buzz around here since they fished you out of the ocean.”

His head was cocked to the side, arms folded across his chest. The blond was most definitely sizing him up. Calculating everything that Kyle was.

From behind him, another blonde appeared. There were bows holding her hair over her shoulders, there was a shy smile on her face and the nervousness was evident in her eyes.

“Hiya there, I'm Marjorine Stotch. It's an honour to meet ya.”

She held out her hand, and Kyle took it without thought. “Nice to meet you, Doctor.”

“This must all be incredibly strange for ya.”

Apparently, it could get stranger.

When it turned out that the landing strip they were on could fly, there was only one thing that flitted across his mind.

 _Stan would have loved this_.

* * *

Steven Black had a son, and _God's_  - yes, plural - were _real_.

If waking up seventy years in the future hadn't been confusing and stressful enough, life was getting worse. As if one curveball wasn't enough, the universe had to throw at least forty.

“It's great to finally meet you.” Token was smiling at him out of the armour, dressed in an eggplant sweater and smart trousers. “My dad talked about you constantly, you were my idol growing up.”

Their hands clasped, and Kyle felt a little more secure.

“It's nice to know that Steve finally found someone and had a family.”

It was a little sad thinking of his friends living an entire life while he was in an ice induced coma. But it brought a smile to his face knowing that they had been happy.

The blonde God of Thunder on the other hand was a curveball that made Kyle's head spin. On a mission to bring his adoptive brother and the Teseract back to Asgard. While his existence made Kyle's heart and head hurt, by God would he help the man take the damn cube off the planet.

* * *

“Man, you guys really do not know anything, do you?” Tweek was shaking his head, fingers digging into his biceps. “You cannot just play with – _ngh_ – that kind of power. It lets other realms know that you are ready - _ngh_ \- for a higher form of war.”

And if that didn't send alarm bells ringing through anyone else's heads, Kyle was going to punch the hell out of them. Aliens thought they were ready for a higher form of war.

Were they _hell_.

He was barely ready for another quote-in-quote normal form of war.

And then an engine was blown and all hell broke loose.

Another battle. One he didn't want to be a part of, but had to fight in anyway because nobody could have just let the Teseract be.

By the time he pulled the lever to let Token free of the engine, he felt more exhausted than he had in a long time.

* * *

Agent Valmer was killed in the battle. Tweek and Marjorine were who-knew-where. In return, Agent Donovan had gone through what Agent McCormick had referred to as 'cognitive recalibration', at which 'Call me Clyde' had glowered at the blond.

Token had already put the almost completely shredded Iron Man suit back on and flown off towards Black Tower. They were on the clock to catch up with him.

“I'm blaming you for the migraine.” Clyde huffed from the pilot seat.

Agent McCormick sniggered.

“I don't care if it's the residual effects of mind control. You fucking smashed my head off a metal bar. The fuck dude?”

“You were trying to _kill me_.” The grin on the Agents face screamed that really, it hadn't bothered him in the slightest.

* * *

The battle was unlike any other he had ever experienced. It wasn't humans thinking they were fighting for the right side. It was aliens after the complete subjugation and domination of a new world. Using technology he would never hope to understand.

When Marjorine showed up on a rusty old motorcycle, she looked as terrified as she did guilty.

“This all looks real awful.”

Kenny snorted somewhere behind him as Clyde told Token Marjorine had showed up.

“We could use worse.”

And Majorine nodded almost shyly.

“Well, I'm bringing the party to you guys.” Token's smooth voice filtered over the comm link.

A wicked laugh seemed to come from from Kenny while Clyde said in a slightly high pitched voice “Dude, how the hell is that a party?”

Every second after that moment went by too quickly. While at the same time he felt the entire stretch of time.

It didn't matter that he was a so-called super soldier, he was _human_. Clyde was human too, stood at the edge of a building as he fired off arrow after arrow, letting them know where they should go and where the aliens were wreaking the most havoc. Token wore armour that protected him from most of the damage; he was fragile and painfully human without it. The damage he could do with it was far more than Kyle would ever be ever to cause.

He thought Kenny was human, but the man grinned like a shark and winked. “Human's can die.”

There was no way he would try to work out what that was supposed to mean.

* * *

Afterwards, after Token had died and demanded shawarma. After they had captured the God of Mischief – was Kyle ever going to get used to the fact God's were real? There was only supposed to be one.

Afterwards, they went for shawarma. Sat exhausted in the establishment, trying to force food into their stomachs. Clyde cracked a few jokes and Kenny would give lewd responses that made Token shake his head, and Marjorine blush as though the comments had been aimed at her directly. Tweek simply stuffed more and more food into his mouth, complaining that the establishment should give them beer to go along with such a feast.

Apparently shawarma was acceptable for a God, Kyle felt that was something he ought to remember.

 _I met a God once, he loved shawarma and that's why I eat it_.

* * *

Tweek left the next day, a smile on his face and the promise to return.

“We need to find his sceptre. It cannot – _ngh_ – be left on Earth for anyone to find.”

They all seemed to part ways after that, and if not for the promise of working together to find the sceptre, it would have left him feeling cold.

Token got into a fancy sports car, and Marjorine got in the passenger side. Nervous was the best way to describe her expression, but Token seemed like a pleasant enough man. She would be as safe in the Tower as she would anywhere else.

Kenny and Clyde got into what he was sure to be Agent Donovan's car. Clyde with a grin and a “See you on your next mission.”

Kenny with a wink and a chuckled “See you soon, babe.”

The ride back to his apartment was more relaxing than he expected. It wasn't the forties anymore, but adjusting to the new world felt like it might be a little easier now that he knew it came with friends.

* * *

Time ticked by, and the nightmares got worse. The therapist assigned to him by Agent McElroy told him it was PTSD, it wasn't something that just went away. Sometimes life was bad, and technically time travelling would seriously mess with someone's mind. Adjusting wasn't as easy as one, two, three.

“What about the girl at reception?” Kenny asked, leaning against a door-frame with a sly smile on his face. “She's cute. I already have her number if you want it.”

He had long since decided that Kenny already had everyone's number. Whether that was because he asked for them, or because he was a terrifyingly fantastic Russian spy, Kyle didn't know. What he did know, was that he had never given Kenny _his_ number.

“Dude-” Clyde appeared behind Kenny, a half eaten taco in hand. “Stop trying to set people up. Ky and I can wingman each other if the need arises, isn't that right man?”

Kyle grinned. “Definitely, dude.” It was the first time he had used the term, and decided that it might not be the last.

* * *

“But just think about it.” Clyde was perched up in the rafters of the gym, bow dangling from his fingers. “Taco pizza. Or pizza tacos. _Pizacos_?” His face became thoughtful as he shook his head slightly. “ _Taco Pancakes_.” He suddenly shouted, his face lighting up like a child on their birthday.

“How would that even work?” He asked, lowering the weights back down to the ground.

“No idea.” Clyde shook his head. “But I'm going to do it. If they taste bad, we can give them to Kenny.” Kyle decided not to tell Clyde that giving bad taco pancakes to Kenny sounded like a _horrific_ idea. “If they taste great, we can send the recipe to Token's AI, and have them all the time after Avenger-y missions.”

“When do you want to make them?” Because he had been pressured and encouraged to _make plans, Kyle. Your sadness errands make my black heart ache_.

Kyle Broflovski did _not_ go on fucking _sadness errands_.

* * *

Stood in the middle of the Smithsonian he felt like maybe, just maybe, he would consider one _sadness errand_.

Stan's face was a burning reminder of his greatest failure.

Footage of them laughing. It was small, simple, on loop for every passer-by to see. It cut through him as easily as a laser. Stan should have lived. A long, happy life. The life he had always wanted. Away from South Park. Away from every awful reminder of every horrific thing he had experienced.

But not so far away that he was dead.

 _He would likely be dead now anyway._ A cruel voice reminded him.

But at least he would have lived.

All Kyle had ever wanted for Stan was for him to have lived. Lived long, happy, and well. Married with children like he had always wanted. Kyle had gotten part of what he had wanted – to be healthy. He was well on his way to seeing thirty, and that's all he had wanted.

 _Be careful what you wish for, Kyle_.

* * *

“On your left.”

He was bored, jittery, desperate for his next mission. It was easy to troll the man who was running the same route as him.

“Don't say it.” He heard him yell. “Don't you fuckin-”

“On your left.”

“ _Goddammit_.”

The man turned out to be a retired pararescuer called Ike who worked down at the VA. Kyle took an instant like to him, smile tugging at his lips as the man engaged him. No one had ever addressed the soldier part of his PTSD. Spies and soldiers were two incredibly different things, and it was nice to be reminded that how he felt about something as simple as his bed was _normal_.

“You should come by the VA sometime, make me look good.”

His lips twitched as his phone buzzed.

Kenny pulled up less than a minute later, and he had no idea how the blond had known where he was.

He had already stopped asking how Kenny just knew everything.

* * *

Kyle had always been quick to anger, and knowing that there had been a separate mission had been going on right under his nose had made him all but furious. He should have known better, but he hadn't. Because he trusted people to be honest with him.

Great fucking spy he was.

But when McElroy showed up in his flat, bleeding and doubled over, it was nothing but worry and fear that pounded through his veins.

SHIELD was compromised, and boy wasn't that _perfect timing_.

Everything hit the fan, and suddenly he was chasing a sniper. Shield at the ready and heart pounding so fast that his brain was buzzing. His gut was screaming at him, because who the hell would target Jerome McElroy and not do it in person? Assassination was a cowards method.

The assassin was fast. Faster than he expected, and caught the shield with a terrifying ease.

The functioning metal arm might have impressed him, if the assassin hadn't _thrown the shield back_.

What the fuck?

_Why would he do that?_

* * *

There had been no time to check up on the one armed assassin. McElroy _died_. The pen drive had been badly hidden – not his best plan, but it wasn't like he had a back up. Cartman had smiled at him, slime and conniving. It had twisted Kyle's stomach, and he had tried his best to lie his way through it.

Kenny's words rang through his head like a church bell. “ _You're a terrible liar you know._ ”

Those words rang true when he was trapped in an elevator with fifteen other men. The Strike team ready to take _him_ down.

 _Just when I had started to think I could like it here_.

“Before we begin, would anyone like to leave?”

 _Me_. He thought bitterly, not like he had much of a choice.

The fight didn't last long, it didn't make it any less strenuous. Any less difficult. Not that he had expected fighting half the Strike team would be _easy_. But he was stronger than them.

Strong enough to survive the drop out from the elevator. Fast enough to _get the fuck out of there_. SHIELD was compromised, and he didn't know who to trust. Clyde would have been a given if he hadn't been on a well timed vacation without any way for anyone to contact him.

 _How fucking convenient_.

Kenny – Kenny he was never sure about. They were friends (possibly), but trusting the man who tended to go behind his back and had more secrets than McElroy himself was a little difficult.

Bebe- Bebe was McElroys' right hand-

* * *

But it was Kenny he was stuck with. Kenny who questioned him and decided it was best if they teamed up. The two of them against what could possibly be _all_ of SHIELD.

But Kenny had years of training and experience with disappearing, and Kyle would take whatever the hell he could get. He had wanted to go to Token for help, but Kenny had shaken his head and tossed their phones in a bin.

“Superheroes aren't spies.”

Biting his lip, he didn't bother asking the obvious – _then what am I_?

Kenny was far better with technology than Kyle would ever be, tracking down where they needed to go in a public place. It was safer that way. Easier to escape, and SHIELD would be far less likely to cause much of a scene. Drawing attention to intelligence agencies wasn't exactly and intelligence agencies goal.

“So where are you guys headed?”

“New Jersey _._ ” He winced, thinking of hair more vibrant than his own. Oh a high pitched voice, and over-protective parenting.

Then they were running without running. Not that he was sure he could run in the damn shoes Kenny had thrown at him. He could see members of the Strike team milling about and his heart began pounding in his chest double time. Getting caught would ruin everything, but being on the run was not something he was used to.

“Kiss me.”

He had heard that wrong, right?

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.” Kenny stated, reaching up.

“Yes.” Kyle agreed. “Yes they d-”

If it was the third nicest kiss he had ever had, Kenny sure as hell was never finding out.

Who was Kyle kidding, the asshole probably already knew.

* * *

Kyle had always been quick to anger, but this? This made him fucking furious.

HYDRA. After everything – _everything_ – he had been through. After everything he had done. After everything he had sacrificed. HYDRA were still around. They still existed.

He wanted to cry. Wanted to scream.

He punched the screen, and Mephesto appeared on another.

His heart was shattering. It hadn't been enough. He hadn't done enough. _He_ hadn't _been_ enough.

The failure that built up in his chest was as intense as it had been when Stan fell, something he never thought he could possibly experience again. Then again, he never thought he could fail as colossally as he had on that train.

Maybe it was why he had survived.

Captain America hadn't finished his mission. He hadn't destroyed the Teseract and he hadn't destroyed HYDRA, so he didn't get his peace.

The world hadn't finished with Captain America, it's why he was fished out of the ocean.

* * *

They showed up on Ike's door broken, bruised, and borderline terrified.

Not a single question tumbled off the man's lips. Just a nod and a check to make sure they hadn't been followed, and by God was Kyle glad that he had befriended such a decent human being. Was glad there was at least one place on the planet that could be considered relatively safe.

“Would you trust me to do the same for you?”

Kenny was looking at him earnestly, _honestly_. A vulnerability in his crisp, clear eyes and Kyle decided then and there.

“I would now.”

Because if Kenny was finally letting Kyle see past that damn mask, then that had to account for something.

He nodded, damp hair flying forward. “Good. I- We're friends, right?” And the vulnerable expression was still painted onto his face. “I know I said- I was _wrong_. Having friends in this business looks like it might save lives. I don't want to end up like-”

He didn't have to finish that sentence.

* * *

Kyle was quick to anger. Gun fights in a civilian area was one sure fire way to make sure his blood was boiling.

What sort of idiot would attack in broad daylight on the damn high way?

HYDRA apparently.

God was his hatred for Cartman bubbling under his skin. If they wanted to strike fear into the hearts of the population, sending a masked assassin with a metal arm and a strike team to attack Captain America and co. was a sure fire way to do that.

Except Kyle wasn't actively being attacked. The assassin was stalking Kenny as if the man was his prey – Kyle was pretty sure that was exactly the case. It didn't mean he was going to not get involved. His blood was pounding, his week had been fucking horrific, and he wanted a fight.

The assassin was _his_ target.

It didn't take long to realise that the assassins strength matched his own, and he was far more skilled. But then the assassin was an _assassin_ , and Captain America was a soldier turned spy.

But the fight wasn't one sided, because Kyle could fight. Had been surviving fights since he was six years old and diabetic.

The mask clattered to the ground and Kyle's heart froze.

His lungs paused mid-breath.

The world around him shattered and disappeared.

Eyes stinging.

“ _Stan_?”

“Who the fuck is Stan?”

He would have let the man kill him.

* * *

Kyle was quick to anger, but seeing McElroy alive sent nothing but relief through his veins while pure betrayal crossed Kenny's face.

Open. Vulnerable. Hurt.

Had finding out he had been working for HYDRA changed his views so quickly. Changed a part of him so deeply?

It hadn't changed Kyle, just reminded him that he wasn't _Kyle_ anymore. He was Captain America.

 _I thought I was going straight_.

But he hadn't lived Kenny's life, and he couldn't imagine thinking that he was finally working for the good guys. Couldn't imagine thinking he was finally doing good in the world, when in reality, he was the enemy once more.

But they had the Avengers too. They had a fall back; Kenny could still do _good_.

“Cut off one head and two more grow back.” Kyle hissed out. “No. We don't salvage anything. We take down HYDRA. We take down SHIELD. It _all_ goes.” Shaking his head, he could feel his blood start to boil. “The possibility of rebuilding cannot be open to them.”

He would miss the steady missions from SHIELD, miss the almost regular sort of work. But HYDRA _had_ to be stopped.

* * *

It wasn't a job he had expected to be easy, and he had more than expected Stan to be there. That didn't stop it from hurting. Didn't stop the job from being one of his hardest yet – and he had fought an _Alien Army_ alongside a _God_.

Every bullet had his heart breaking. And when the card had been slotted into place he was ready.

Death was likely, but he had survived nose-diving into the Arctic. Maybe another seventy year coma would be good for him. Death would be kinder than having to live with the complete and utter failure that had been that fucking train.

He had failed Stan. Completely and utterly failed him. Had left him to a fate far, far worse than death. He could start building a new bridge, or he could die trying.

Dropping the shield, he felt terrifyingly _calm_.

“You're my friend, Stan. I can't fight you.”

“You're my mission.”

His heart shattered, and he would let him. Let his best friend since childhood _kill him_.

He deserved it, didn't he?

Tongue thick, and brain foggy he barely heard the words slip out past his lips.

 _It sounds like you want your ass kicked_.

The world faded to black, and the last thing he saw was horror stretch across Stan's face as his arm dropped to his side.

* * *

Pain.

The pain was nearly unbearable when he woke up.

Machines were beeping, and he wondered if any of the staff had ever expected that one day they would be dealing with _Captain America_. God knew he didn't realise he could sustain so much damage.

“On your left.” He choked out.

Ike gave a wry smile and shook his head.

 _A friend_ , Kyle thought, _he's a real friend_.

The last person to stay by his bedside when he was ill or injured -

Sleep consumed him once more. The pain too much for him to bare. It would pass soon enough, an upside to being a human lab rat, he would suppose.

It was dark when his eyes opened, and instantly his senses were on red alert.

He may not have been a spy for long, but that didn't mean he hadn't learned anything.

Ike was gone, and faint moonlight pooled into his room, outlining the figure sat on the windowsill. His shield was resting against a leg, metal fingers wrapped around the top.

“You're a moron, Broflovski. _Go to sleep_.”

When he woke up, Ike had returned. The pain had lessened.

His shield was resting against the side of his bed.

“It was there when I arrived.” Ike said, tone almost curious. “No idea who brought it in.”

* * *

The party was surprisingly enjoyable. Another HYDRA base gone, the Sceptre was found. While the twins were likely to pose a problem in the future, it was nice to take a night to relax.

It was even better knowing Tweek had brought Asgardian alcohol, meaning there was opportunity for him to get a little buzzed as well. It also meant there was someone in the room he knew more than about Earth culture, and while that thought made him feel a little guilty, he didn't dwell on it.

What he did dwell on was the wide eyed, shy smiled expression that found it's way onto Marjie's face every time she looked at Kenny. And boy, if it didn't make his heart bounce in utter joy when he realised the look that flitted across Kenny's face every time he looked at Marjie could only be described as _heart eyes_. By God, those two deserved happiness more than anything.

“God that makes me sick.” Clyde shook his head, throwing himself down next to Kyle. “I think Token is regretting taking Bebe on. Wendy is so smitten. Apparently more work was getting done when he was in charge and _dying_. I sometimes think he's exaggerating but-” Gesturing towards the two women, Kyle rolled his eyes.

 _It was nice_ , he thought, _that love is finally all kinds of legal._

Not that it ever should have been illegal before.

Kenny had already roped him into going to _Pride_ that year.

When the hammer moved as he tried to lift it, he almost fell back in shock. If it wasn't for SHIELD and Kenny's training, he would have freaked out then and there. Instead he feigned his next attempt to lift it, and met Tweek's eyes.

“ _Nothing_.”

The blond looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. A mix of shock, horror, and awe lingering in his gaze.

“Not a twitch.” He sounded a little strangled, and he had never been more glad that their friends were drunk.

Until the robot burst through the door.

* * *

Apparently it had been an accident. Token and Marjie had been investigating the power of the sceptre. “Not to use.” Token had said firmly. “The Teseract was one mistake too many.”

The power seemed to have a consciousness and they must have gone wrong somewhere in their investigation because it had _uploaded_ itself into a body. Had killed the AI that ran all of Token's systems.

 _My best friend._ Token had told him one night, when the insomnia had kept them in the communal kitchen until the wee hours of the morning. _Been there for me longer than anyone else, even if he is_ just an AI.

He trusted Token, and he trusted Marjie. Accidents happen, and Tweek looked as horrified as he did angry. Not nearly as forgiving of the mishap – muttering about stupid Humans and their inability to leave things alone.

* * *

Clyde, it turned out, had a farm. He had bought it for his younger sister, and it kept her out of harms way and off of any radar. McElroy had helped him set it up for maximum security, and that made Kyle's heart ache for just a moment.

It was a safe place to stay while they tried to figure out a plan. Not that Tweek stuck around for long. Disappearing to find a way to re-enter the nightmare given to him by the girl – _Karen_.

Everyone else was struggling to pull together some semblance of a plan, until McElroy had shown up out of the blue, Bebe on his heels.

“Were you ever not working for Chef?” Token asked, using the nickname Kyle had never come to understand, long after everyone other than Kenny and Kyle got over the shock of him being _alive_.

“You knew?” Clyde hissed later in the night. “You knew and you never told me?”

He answered honestly. “Kenny said he ought to be the one to break the news to you.”

Clyde snorted out a huff of air and shook his head. “'Course.”

* * *

The plan was only half a success. They got a hold of the cradle and gained the support of Karen and Kevin, but they lost Kenny.

Horror had flushed through him when he realised Token and Marjie were attempting to upload _something_ into the body in the cradle. While he fully believed them when they said Ultron was not their fault, seeing them pursue Ultron's goal sent a hot flush through his blood.

“ _NO_.”

Tweek's command was enough to make him stop. Even though horror and anger were coursing through his veins he didn't move to stop him from pounding his charged hammer against the cradle.

The creature that came out of the machine was disturbingly human. Eye's flitting around the room seemingly terrified, before he crashed into Tweek and shot for the window.

"I-” His voice sounded painfully familiar. “I'm sorry.” His eyes were focused on Tweek.

“I looked into your head-” Karen sounded so utterly terrified, and he had to remind himself that she was a _kid_. “There was nothing but destruction. You want to destroy us.”

“You can look again now, if you want.” His voice sounded almost bored, eyes dragging across the room to meet hers. “I have no intention of destroying _anything_.”

When he lifted the hammer, the trust in him was secured.

* * *

The air was getting thin, and he felt bad for Clyde. There was nothing super-powered about his friend. Unless living off of _nothing_ but pizza, taco's, and lukewarm coffee for a solid month was considered a power. Of course, his accuracy was unparalleled, but McElroy had always said that it was skill and talent, not power.

“There are worse way's to go.”

And for a moment, Kyle thinks he should be terrified of how content Kenny looks. Eyes wide, as if seeing the world for the first time. It was honest and real, and Kyle wondered if Kenny wanted to die.

He knew the feeling, had been ready to accept it on at least one occasion. It was stirring once again in his gut the further the city got. He hadn't considered Kenny would feel like that too.

It was easy to forget that not everyone wanted to live.

* * *

Kevin gave his life for Clyde and a little boy. Karen folded like a card and had barely stopped crying since she _felt_ it. Ultron was destroyed. SHIELD renewed under a new name, McElroy looking proud as punch.

When his head hit the pillow, sleep hit him like a truck.

His eyes pulled open only a few hours later. The time on his phone saying it was 03:17. His mouth felt dry, and he was sweating like he had never been given the serum and had decided to run a marathon.

Getting out of bed was always a challenge after intense missions. Muscles screaming and protesting after every movement, he dreaded to think about how some of the less _super_ of his friends were feeling. Tweek was probably more than ready for another round.

The water was cold and refreshing. Just what he had needed. The ache in his stomach told him he was hungry, but he ignored it. Still to exhausted to be ready to make anything.

He turned around and the glass slid out his hand, shattering against the floor.

The metal gleamed in the moonlight, bright eyes as curious as they were calculating. Kyle felt naked, despite the fact he was in pyjamas.

It wasn't that he was unaware of Stan's vague presence in his life. A shadow in his living room when he goes to the toilet half asleep. A bullet through an enemy when no-one was around to make the shot. The occasional feeling like he's being monitored. If he hadn't been one hundred percent certain his stalker was Stan, he would have moved into the Tower permanently.

“Where are you going?”

“Uh-” Confusion flooded through him.

“The boxes.” Stan pressed, an urgency on his face that almost scared Kyle.

Nodding, he tugged at his hair. “The Avengers Facility upstate.”

Resignation settled in Stan's eyes. “Why?”

“It's safer. I'm needed there. It's-” He pause, the word freezing on his tongue.

“Why. Why are you needed?”

“I'm Captain America.”

“What about Kyle?”

He swallowed, the truth clawing at his chest, burning his eyes.

“I don't know how to be him anymore.”

He blinked, and Stan was gone.

* * *

“Craig.” The bored voice echoed throughout the kitchen. “Nice. Simple. _Boring_.” He nodded to himself, seeming almost proud of himself.

“What about a surname?” Clyde was sat on the kitchen island, legs swinging back and forth as he shoved half a taco pancake in his mouth.

“Tyler?” Kyle suggested. “Taylor? Thompson?”

“Tucker?” Karen said almost shyly as she walked towards them.

Craig watched her for a moment before nodding, his face completely serious. “Craig Tucker. Nice to meet you.”

Karen's face lit up. “It's nice to meet you too.” And then her gaze moved to Kyle. “Package. Kenny told me to send it over, he's to busy wallowing.”

 _I betrayed her_. Kenny's words echoed in his ears. _She trusted me, wanted_ me, _and I_ -

Opening the parcel, his breath caught in his throat. Paints, brushes and notepads were all that was contained in the box. He entertained the idea that it had been Token, even questioned how the other man had _known_ , and then he opened one of the pads.

_Kyle likes to finger paint_

Karen was looking in the box, eyes shining. Clyde had stopped chewing, half mushed pancake on show for everyone as curiosity rippled across his face.

“You paint?” Craig asked.

“He remembered.” He choked out.

Not the fact that Kyle liked to paint. Not the fact that art was one of the few things Kyle had been able to fill his time up with. But the reference.

A small, faint memory, a whole life time again.

* * *

“Who's Wendy?” Karen asked from around a slice of pizza; she had never had any before, and Clyde had considered that a criminal offence.

“Token's ex-P.A. Current CEO of Brown Enterprises. You'll meet her soon enough. Lovely women, knows how to keep everyone in line.” Clyde replied.

“I vaguely remember her.” Craig said carefully.

Being artificial intelligence meant no one could really guess how existence out with a computer program would really effect him. His memory of certain things was not the best. As he put it, “It's like a system upgrade, sometimes things stay the same, sometimes things change. This was a change.”

“You might remember her more when she visits.” Clyde said adamantly.

Kyle's favourite thing about Clyde, was how quick he could be to befriend someone. If he hated you, God-forbid you ever cross his path. If he decided he liked you, you were never likely to escape him.

“I don't think artificial memory works the same way human memory does.” Ike stated simply, shaking his head in mild amusement.

“No-” Clyde started, a grin plastered to his face. “But there's never been anyone like Craig around before, has there? So we can't know.”

Craig gave a shrug. “Tweek might.”

The phrase was slowly becoming so common that everyone had stopped questioning it. Kyle had asked once, why he thought that.

“Tweek knows what this is.” He had tapped the gem on his forehead. “He knew to finish creating me. He knows why I needed to be created.”

As far as Kyle knew, that didn't include the slew of things Craig guessed Tweek might know. But Tweek was a God, and none of them knew even half of what he did.

* * *

 

Waking up with a start, he shot forward, hands clutching at his sheets.

“Nightmare?”

He screamed.

Loud. High pitched. Equal parts feminine and terrified,

Stan was stood at the end of his bed, one arm across his chest and a raised eyebrow. His lips twitched, and he shook his head.

“What. The. Fuck?” Kyle demanded after he finally caught his breath.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes, lips slowly pressing into a thin line.

“ _My arm's broken_.” The whisper was pained. Ashamed.

Looking at Stan more carefully, he noticed the metal arm looked slightly warped. The fingers half curled into a fist. The arm over all, bending slightly in the wrong direction.

“I don't know how to fix it.” He adjusted his weight a couple of times. “I- It started a while ago. I would have come sooner, I thought about it. But-” His gaze locked firmly on the floor. “You said you were going home, and I don't- I don't fit-”

“St _an_ -”

“I don't. I'm not a hero. I don't help anyone. I was too scared to come anywhere near you for so long because you were my – _his_ – _mission_. But I got most of my memories back, I'm pretty convinced I won't kill you.” Shaking his head he gave a dull laugh. “Though you're doing a good job of trying to do that yourself. Who jumps out a plane without a 'chute?”

His heart was pounding in his chest, ringing in his ears.

“You don't have to be a so called hero to call this place home.”

“I wanna.” He said quietly. “You said to your friend you wanted me to come home. I heard you say it in Vienna. That's when-”

“You started stalking me?”

A half smile curled at his lips.

“Stan, if you want to call this place home, then that's what it is.” Taking in a deep breath, his eyes lingered on his arm. “I you want to stay the night, I can call Token in the morning. He'll fix your arm in no time.”

“Okay.”

Kyle had fully expected to show Stan to the room next door, not have his best friend drop down next to him.

“I missed you.”

* * *

The parade was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Like everything else in the future it was bright, colourful, loud, but in all the best possible ways. It made his heart squeeze with joy at the happiness written across everyone's faces.

Kenny had a genuine grin plastered to his face, glitter glinting in his hair, and dressed in nothing but rainbow colours. Clyde was dancing in time to the music, a rainbow flag tied around his waist and flags badly drawn on his face; every so often he would loose an arrow and glitter would rain down from the sky. Tweek didn't seem to be one hundred percent sure as to what was going on, but was happy to celebrate 'Earthly love'. Craig kept close to the blond, explaining facts about Pride history so Tweek would understand more. Iron Man had made an appearance, flying over head with rainbow smoke trailing behind him. Karen wore a pretty rainbow dress she had designed herself, and chatted animatedly to Ike about how she had never been to any kind of parade before.

Marjorine was still missing, and Kyle had made it his mission not to let Kenny dwell on that.

"So, this is all legal now." Stan asked thickly.

Kyle nodded. "Marriage, adoption - _all_ of it."

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Stan's lips as he met Kyle's eyes. "Seventy years." He breathed out. "Almost seems worth it."

"It is." He replied firmly. "We're still together."

"Isn't that something people celebrate? Seventy years."

"Really, it's borderline one hundred."

Stan nodded, eyes shining. "That's definitely something people celebrate. One hundred years together. Bet there's no one else who can say that."

He spent seventy years in the ice, and looking around his heart filled with nothing but joy.

It took almost a hundred years, but he finally felt peaceful.

It was most definitely worth it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Were Karen and Kevin related to Kenny in this story?  
> Much younger siblings?
> 
> Maybe? I'll never tell you.
> 
> If you've read this story, I appreciate it and hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
